Page 46 of Auctioned Innocence (Bonds of Betrayal #3)

SOFIA

T he hospital waiting room blurs at the edges as exhaustion hits.

It’s been two weeks of vigil, of watching Marco breathe through tubes, of praying the bullets didn’t do permanent damage.

The bandaged cut on my temple from flying marble in the Council chamber has healed, but the deeper wounds—the fear of losing my brother—are still raw.

“Miss Renaldi?” A nurse touches my arm. “The doctor would like to see you.”

My heart stops. “Marco?—”

“Is stable,” she assures quickly. “This is about your blood work from the admission screening.”

Dante squeezes my hand before I follow her. We’ve barely left each other’s side since everything happened, taking turns watching over Marco. The bruises on Dante’s ribs from the Council chamber fight are fading, but like me he refuses to leave until we know Marco’s truly okay.

The doctor’s expression is kind as she closes her office door. “How have you been feeling, Sofia?”

“Tired. Nauseous sometimes, but with everything we’ve been through…” I touch the bandaged cut on my temple. “I assumed it was stress from the fight, from watching my brother…I’ve been super sick, but I thought it was just everything catching up to me.”

“Nausea and sickness?” She raises an eyebrow. “How long has that been going on?”

I pause, thinking back. “Maybe…three weeks? It started right after the warehouse incident. I’ve been so focused on Marco that I didn’t really think about…” My brain short circuits. “Oh god.”

“When was your last period, Sofia?”

The question stops me cold. I count back weeks, my mind racing through everything that’s happened. The warehouse. The Council chamber. The auction. Before that, the estate attack. Before that…

“Eight weeks,” I whisper, the timeline crystallizing. “Maybe nine. I thought the stress was throwing off my cycle, but…”

She smiles warmly. “Congratulations. Based on your symptoms and timeline, I’d estimate you’re about six to seven weeks along.”

The world tilts sideways. Six weeks. That first night in the penthouse when everything changed between Dante and me. When we stopped fighting what we felt and gave in to something bigger than both of us.

“I can’t believe this,” I breathe, hands instinctively moving to my stomach. “With everything that’s happened—the fighting, the stress, getting thrown from that car…”

“Let’s take a look,” she says gently. “I’d like to do an ultrasound to make sure everything’s developing normally after the recent…excitement.”

My heart pounds as she prepares the machine. What if the violence of the past few weeks hurt the baby? What if all that stress and trauma caused damage I can’t fix?

The gel is cold on my stomach as she sets up the ultrasound wand. For a terrifying moment, the screen shows nothing but static. Then she adjusts the angle, and suddenly there it is—a tiny, bean-shaped shadow in the grainy black and white image.

“There,” she says softly, pointing to the screen. “And there’s the heartbeat.”

A rapid, fluttering rhythm fills the room. Strong and steady and absolutely perfect.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “That’s…that’s really…”

“Your baby,” she confirms with a smile. “Measuring right on track for about six and a half weeks. Heartbeat is excellent—about 140 beats per minute, which is exactly what we want to see.”

I stare at the screen in wonder, unable to process that this tiny miracle exists inside me. That despite everything we’ve been through—bullets and explosions and car crashes—this little life has been growing, thriving, completely protected.

“The baby wasn’t affected by…by everything?” I ask, voice shaking.

“Not at all,” the doctor assures me. “The uterus provides excellent protection in early pregnancy, and your hormone levels indicate a very healthy pregnancy. This little one is a fighter—just like mom and dad, I’d guess.”

She prints several copies of the ultrasound images, handing them to me with gentle care. “I want you to make an appointment with an OB, and I’m prescribing prenatal vitamins. But Sofia? Everything looks perfect. You’re going to have a beautiful, healthy baby.”

The tears come harder now—relief and joy and overwhelming love for this tiny person I’ve only just learned exists.

“Can I…can I tell him now?” I ask, clutching the ultrasound pictures like precious treasures.

She laughs. “Of course. And Sofia? Congratulations. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this happiness.”

When I return to Marco’s room, Dante looks up immediately from where he’s been reading security reports—even here, we can’t completely let our guard down. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“More than okay.” I take his hand, my own still trembling slightly from the emotional weight of what I’ve just learned. “I need to show you something. Privately.”

Concern flickers across his features as I lead him to a quiet corner near the window overlooking the city.

My hands shake as I locate the ultrasound pictures in my bag, suddenly nervous about his reaction.

We never talked about children. Never planned for this.

What if he’s not ready? What if this changes everything between us?

“Sofia?” His voice is rough with worry. “You’re scaring me. What did the doctor say?”

I bite my lip, gathering courage. “Remember that night in the penthouse? Our first night together? When we decided some things were worth the risk?”

He nods slowly, eyes searching my face.

“Well,” I say, holding out the ultrasound image with a trembling hand, “apparently this was one of those things.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes as he stares at the grainy black and white image. His face goes through a series of emotions—shock, wonder, fear, and finally pure joy.

“You’re…” He can’t seem to finish the sentence, just stares at the picture like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Pregnant,” I whisper. “About six and a half weeks. The doctor says everything looks perfect, despite…well, despite everything we’ve been through.”

His gray eyes snap to mine, wide with amazement. “The baby’s okay? After the car crash, the fighting…”

“More than okay. Strong heartbeat, measuring exactly right. She said this little one’s a fighter.” My voice wobbles with emotion. “Just like their parents.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, then at the picture, then back at me again. I can practically see his mind processing this news, and my heart pounds waiting for his reaction.

“Dante?” I whisper. “Say something. Please.”

He answers by pulling me into a desperate kiss, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other moves protectively to my still-flat stomach. When we break apart, his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Sofia,” he breathes, voice strangled. “You’re carrying my baby.”

“ Our baby,” I correct, tears spilling over. “Is that…are you okay with this? I know we never planned?—”

“Okay?” He laughs shakily, cupping my face in his hands. “Sofia, this is the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He kisses me again, softer this time, reverent. “I love you. And I already love this baby more than I thought possible.”

“Even though it’s completely unplanned and our lives are insane?”

“ Especially because of that.” His thumb traces my cheek, wiping away tears. “This baby was created from love, Sofia. Pure love. In the middle of all that chaos and darkness, we made something beautiful.”

“We’re going to be parents,” I say, the reality finally sinking in.

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, wonder in his voice.

“Expanding the family business?” I tease.

He kisses me again, softer this time. “I love you. Both of you. So much.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

We spin to find Marco awake, watching us with a tired but genuinely happy smile.

“Marco!” I rush to his side, careful of his tubes and monitors. “How long have you been…”

“Long enough to hear I’m going to be an uncle.” His grip is weak but real as he squeezes my hand. “Congratulations, little sister. Both of you.”

Dante moves to Marco’s other side, clasping his shoulder carefully. “Thank you. For everything. For raising her, protecting her, making her into the incredible woman she is.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me, Moretti,” Marco says, but his eyes are bright with emotion. “Save that for the proposal.”

“The what?” I turn to stare at him. “Marco…”

“About time you made an honest woman of her,” Marco continues with a knowing grin. “Especially now.”

Dante clears his throat, color rising in his cheeks. “Actually… Marco, I need to ask you something. Officially.”

A strangled noise rises in my throat.

“I know traditionally I should ask your father,” Dante continues, his voice steady despite the emotion underlying it, “but Marco, you’re the one who raised Sofia. You’re the one who protected her, who made her strong, who became both brother and father to her when she needed it most.”

Marco’s expression grows serious, understanding the weight of this moment.

“I love your sister more than my own life,” Dante says quietly. “She’s my partner, my equal, my everything. I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy, protecting her, building a family with her. So I’m asking—do I have your blessing to marry Sofia?”

Marco says nothing. The room is heavy with emotion and years of brotherhood between these two men who both love me.

“Dante,” Marco says finally, his voice rough, “you’ve already proven yourself a hundred times over.

You’ve protected her, fought beside her, treated her as the warrior she is instead of trying to cage her like everyone else wanted to.

” He pauses, looking between us. “You have my blessing. My complete, enthusiastic blessing.”

Dante’s relief is visible. “Thank you.”

“But,” Marco adds with a hint of his old authority, “if you ever hurt her?—”

“You’ll kill me,” Dante finishes with a small smile. “I know. I’d deserve it.”